In lieu of a title, please picture me languidly waving

Well folks, today was that momentous and long-awaited day, the memory of which we shall pass on to our children, and our children's children, never forgetting the scope, the sheer magnitude of international importance conveyed by the blessed and august proceedings. That's right: the Royal Wedding.

Or, as Scotland has chosen to identify it:

You can't see it, but the subtitle reads "HRH Prince William and Kate Middleton's 4 day bender." Ahhh, Scotland. You scamps.

Many people here have made it unequivocally clear that they hold no truck with the royals. Republicans (it means something different in Britain), disgruntled Jacobites, super-cool Americans who think royalty is pointless but manage somehow to support professional hockey...all professed their intention to avoid the metropolitan shenanigans as they would a plague. A plague of semi-balding, over-bitten locusts. With publicly-funded charge accounts.

Anyway.

My reaction in the days leading up to THE EVENT OF THE CENTURY was a bit different. In my mind, the day took on a significance rather like the Hollywood Oscars (which when you think about it, really isn't all that different from royalty...the favorites always come out on top, the losers are immediately taken backstage and guillotined, and the nominees for best sound-mixing are forced to eat stewed horse meat while everyone else gets gilded breast of peacock. I might be confusing some of my history, but basically I think that's how it works). I wanted to watch the wedding for the pageantry, the dresses and, most importantly, the HATS.

AHAAA, what?! This looks like a cross-section of the female reproductive system. Uteruses down, my favorite of the day.

And on that note the wedding (or, rather, the procession to the wedding) did not disappoint. What I had neglected to consider was that this procession was headed for a church. An Anglican church. Inside of which was going to be held an Anglican church service. THAT I WAS GOING TO BE STUCK WATCHING AT 11AM ON A FRIDAY MORNING HOLY MOTHER OF GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Luckily, I was in a pub.

This is just a shitty picture. No, it had nothing to do with the state of my motor skills at the time.

Lemme tell ya, after a few mid-morning brewskies, it becomes a lot funnier that the American revolutionaries totally ripped off the English national anthem and threw it back as a paean to liberty and democracy. What up, original parody song?

So there it is, my intimate participation in the royal wedding. I honestly and wholeheartedly wish Wills and Kate--atherine the best of luck, because they are probably going to need it. Also, I'm a little bit hormonal right now.